The Dead World Ch. 12

With a firm and final nod, Oz started off toward the sliding doors and pressed them apart, having deactivated the automation to try and reserve what he could of the generator. He went to make himself useful by trying his best to sort out the mechanical issues of their most valued vehicle, leaving Dog to glance off toward the elevator with quiet resolve. He glanced to Diablo, who shrugged gently without drawing his eyes up from the book in hand, and tilted his head toward the elevator.

"Hey, don't look at me... el jefe's got a bunch of solid ass points. She's better off with the group. She'll listen to you, chico... go on."

He slowly lowered his weapon from his shoulder, and gently placed it on the desk at the head of the lobby, starting off toward the elevator and pressing the button to summon the lift down to the ground floor. He stepped inside, feeling a nervous tension seize him as he thought back on Skully's threats, debating very much to abandon Oz's mission in fear of retaliation. Skully had said he was to stay away without expressive permission... but he had been given permission, hadn't he? The younger second-in-command hadn't ever said that it had to come directly from him.

While he had always had a fondness for finding loopholes and little snags in agreements just as well as the next sly member of their group, the fact of the matter was that he had never had anything to lose before. The idea that Charlie might face some grand evil consequence because he refused to follow direct orders weighed heavily on his heart and mind... and as the elevator slowed to the fourth floor, he drew in a deep breath and stepped out, moving quietly down the hall to her room. His thin fingers rested on the door knob before he drew back, and knocked quietly in the same pattern he always did.

Tap... taptaptaptap.

He could hear movement just beyond the door, and after a long pause that felt like an eternity, the locks were rapidly removed and the door swung open, the dainty woman inside grasping his wrist and ripping him clean into the room. She slammed the door heavily behind him and snapped the security guard back into place with a speed that suggested she might have been practicing the maneuver, turning the deadbolt and the lock on the knob to keep it from turning. Once the room was very much secure, Charlie all but tackled Dog, curling her lithe arms around his torso and drawing him flush against her in a way that could only soften the teen's hardened expression... and with slow, tender certainty, his lanky arms encircled the smaller woman, and he held her close.

"...I thought something awful had happened to you." Her voice was meek. She swallowed hard, and rested her forehead against his chest, and he drew back the smallest bit to offer her a lazy grin as a set of fingers dipping beneath her chin to lift her head. She looked positively exhausted... perhaps even more so than he did. She had taken to dressing again as if she were a young boy, something he could hardly fault her for now. There was no denying a shift in her energy... how worn down she seemed, how those usually bright brown eyes had taken on a darkness that suggested she was troubled; tormented even.

She put on her best brave face, but did not yet move away from him, feeling his sweeping gaze seeking out any sign of injury or discomfort almost habitually with what he had been told. Certainly enough he had taken notice of the small reddened marks of hickies and bites along her slender neck, and the fact that she stepped slowly and tenderly as she led him to the small table of the room, the balcony door swung wide to let the sound and scent of the ocean fill the room.

"It's been hell without you. I figured he had said something similar, to keep you away... the... the night he came, he told me he would kill you, if I went against him. Slash, too--he..." She trailed off, drawing in a deep breath as she moved to sit, and closed her eyes with a soft shake of her head, "I made a deal with him, to check on you. I'm guessing since you're here, now, that it worked out... but he told me you were in trouble, and being watched and... I... honestly, I don't think I could've talked myself out of it if I tried. He said he'd keep Skully busy so I could check on you... he's still the fucking worst but at least he's not a fucking liar, I guess..."

She pushed the small notepad across the table to Dog, who had taken the seat just across, and reached out to take her hand gently before she could withdraw with a knowing squeeze. He nodded his head in certain understanding... at this point, it was all either of them could do, playing their hand as it was dealt and biding their time to make the best of a very dangerous, very unfair situation.

He took the pen and began to write, finding it hard really to draw his attention away from Charlie in full, who even with her somber tone and exhausted expression was just as beautiful as she ever was. Her long hair was braided, and draped over a shoulder, with the beanie cap firm over her head. The dark green, long sleeved shirt she wore had the arms rolled up to her elbows, and around her neck, the black chord with the small ring upon it he had pickpocketed from her one of their first encounters dangled. Fuck if he didn't want to pull her close again, and hold her, and try his best to steal her attention away away the conflicted emotions she seemed all but consumed by.

She watched him write, slowly crossing her arms upon the table, and resting her chin atop them... and when he slid the book back toward her, her eyes swept the words slowly... and then rapidly. She blinked in angered surprise, and fear, looking up immediately to Dog whose expression was unreadable and sullen.

"Dog... Enemies? What kind of... wait...just--w-what the fuck?! Why didn't anyone tell me? Oz was literally just up here, why the fuck wouldn't he say all of this then?!"

She felt the panic and fear gripping her, tightening her chest, and Dog reached for her hand again to take it and squeeze gently. Charlie didn't draw back... but when their eyes met he could read the fear very deeply, and she shook her head, and continued to do so as she tried to come to terms with everything he'd just told her. Rival groups... the hummer, the generator, traveling...

"I can't go... I can't--and you know why--I'd be better off just trying to survive alone--"

He shook his head solidly, halting her fearful determination with that single motion. He had seen the world, and it was neither safe nor kind toward any lone survivor... if the dead didn't overpower her the living would do far worse. He reached out, and swiftly placed two letters onto the paper. 'Oz.' For a long few moments Charlie looked down at the name of the group's leader before she frowned, deeply, and looked back at him.

"Danny... I'm afraid. I'm scared to go off alone... but I'm terrified of the people you're with. There's something wrong with them--you see that just as much as I do, now... so who's to say there isn't something wrong with Oz, too?"

'If anyone can help, Oz can.'

They'd put it off for far too long, for more than a few reasons... and by now Dog knew that Charlie was very much right. He didn't know what exactly it was that made mental stability seem to deteriorate by the day in some of the group's men--some far more than others. He felt he would be lying himself not to have the very same fear that he might eventually reach that same critically disturbing point where violence and impulse seemed to infect his every thought or decision. It was a desperate last ditch effort, to go to Oz and tell him everything that had transpired... he could see her reluctance, still. With a heavy sigh, Charlie drew her arms back and curled them slowly around herself for comfort.

"I think he already knows anyway. I think he's ignoring things on purpose because it's his own brother who's doing it... what if telling him makes things worse?"

'It will be worse not to try.'

He wrote the statement and presented it to her, watching her quickly wipe the tears beading from the corners of her eyes as she drew in another slow, deep breath, and finally nodded her head gently. He reached out to let his fingertips brush her soft cheek, and tilted her head up once again, nodding his head firmly. Her slender fingers shifted to curl lace between Dog's own as she moved to stand.

"...I don't want to stay in this room anymore. It feels like a prison. Will you help me move some things? Later on, we'll go down and talk to Oz... and tell him everything."

It seemed far more like busy work to gather clothing, what little worldly possessions she cared for and her art materials and things of that nature, and carry them down the hall to settle into a new and less familiar room far from the haunting essence that plagued the one she had called home for so long. Still... it was a welcome distraction for them both. She seemed far less stressed and tense, once they settled into the new room. It was smaller than the last, but nestled on the corner of the resort tower, offered a full view of the sea from the balcony that wrapped around it.

Dog didn't press the issues and conversation they had any further than it had already gone. He didn't question when Charlie settled on the balcony and placed a neatly rolled joint between her lips, igniting the end with pensive silence as she looked out over the ocean glistening in mid-day sun, and watched the waves crash on the barrier reef further out at sea.

He simply sat there with her, and admired her strength and perseverance in the face of countless horrors and unspeakable violence the last few weeks, unable to shake the immense swell of guilt he felt. He should have never left her alone. More so than that... he felt he wouldn't have been wrong, to eliminate the threats as they appeared rather than letting his loyalty to the corrupt second-in-command subdue what he knew was the right thing to do. Or perhaps that was the sickness taking hold of him too, at last...

They passed the joint back and forth in silence, and absorbed a moment of much needed peace, and silence. Before long, Charlie yawned wide, and rubbed her eyes gently. The spent joint was flicked out far off toward the white sand of the beach, and Dog slowly stood and took her hand, guiding her back into the room and off toward the bed.

He might have mused how awkward and shy she had been the first time he'd come to lay with her... and now, she slipped her dainty feet from her boots, and practically dragged him down to the pillowtop surface without a second thought of it. He was quick to kick his feet free of his boots as well, but made no motion to remove any clothing, not his own or hers. Her slender arms encircled his neck and her head rested gently against his collarbone.

It seemed like only moments before Charlotte dozed off, comforted by the hope of at least one potential solution to their mounting fears and woes, and the sound of the sea... and the arms of perhaps her only true friend in the world.

----------

For all of their primp and pomp, the Council moved slower than he would have ever hoped. A week had dragged painfully past since he had submitted his report of the extraction, and the details surrounding it. They staged a proper burial at sea for the remains of the fallen Hunters... but none more lavish than that of lost youth in a city where the median age of inhabitants were mid-thirties to forties. The late blooming cherokee roses littered the shore for days to follow once the wooden burial boats had sunk beyond the horizon. The city fell back into its flow like clockwork.

The fact that there was silence from beyond the wall, and that most regular activity had resumed and the threat level mellowed to gray did him no favors. The request stalled as petty worries over low yields from the settlements under their protection and new endeavors to expand territories into the red zones of the city to try and better balance the straining power grid took the forefront... and sure, their crowded numbers of denizens of the outer ring and reports of sickness and disease running rampant were worrisome, but no less troubling than intruders on their territory.

If Alpha sat on the Council, he'd have signed the order to organize a scouting party his fucking self, if only if it were not for his reputation and history among them... he was prohibited to hold any such position of political authority. He was a defector... and not only that, a key defector.

There was only one other who made the city what it was now, and they called her Superior Elect. If it wasn't for her, he would have had little to no authority here at all, especially among the surviving members and denizens of the original group of Hunters who had received amnesty and chose to remain and adhere to the new order, rather than face her cleansing: those who stood against her went to trial and were deemed Undesirable, and their sentences were harsh... death by the firing squad was merciful. Most of them had been sent to the Pit.

Most of those who defied her were long gone--those who stood against her after the original party was torn down from the anarchist, cannibalistic heathens they had been before her... they died in the Pit as they well deserved, and he--a traitor among them--only had the terms of pairing to thank for the comforts and recognition he enjoyed.

Alpha long accepted his fate and hand in the redesigning of Three Rings.

Still... his given sobriquet was not bestowed lightly. He had earned the right to be seen as a leader among men, even without the privilege of political pull. For those who were opposed to his leadership there were men who were grateful, who respected and feared him, and it had nothing to do with the Superior's backing.

That would mean to take his concerns directly to her... and it was not something he did lightly. The woman was not only deadly, but she was downright terrifying at times, for more than a few reasons.

He lingered on the thought well through the weekend. There'd be no getting men or vehicles out to canvas the territory to ensure their uninvited guests were gone, not without someone of good standing signing off on it, so with heavy resolve he made his way through the mid-ring from Scout's apartment toward the core...

There was no wall separating the core from the rest of the mid-ring society as there was between the outer-ring and the mid-ring, but the designation between them was clear. The mid-ring had its less than savory designations... there were places here even where the denizens struggled and clawed tooth and nail amongst one another for survival, barely clinging to basic comforts. The core, however, was no such place. Those privileged few here lived as closely as they had before the end days, with relatively few worries, and an iron grip upon the rest of the city.

The old Coastal College had been transformed into housing for the city's elite, and it was here that he found himself at her doorstep. The dormitories of the college had been redesigned by the city's few architects and the lowly labor of outer-ring denizens eager to gain good standing or relieve debts... over the last two years it had been transformed into luxurious accommodations for the Council members, the Generals of the Hunter's militia, and the most esteemed of medical personnel working diligently toward a vaccine against the accursed virus. At the very top, deemed the penthouse, was where he would find her.

The officers guarding the lobby floor did not disturb him any farther than to relieve him of his weapons temporarily, as they did with any visitor to the Chambers of the Council.

He made his way toward the elevator, and swiped the keycard to summon the lift to ground floor, and quietly stepped inside, praying that she was in a mood for company. Without an invitation, he half expected her to dismiss him all but entirely... but if she would hear him out, then perhaps his petition would not go unheard.

As the lift stopped smoothly at the top floor, he stepped out, worn boots quietly echoing with each step upon smooth marble floors. A warm swell of air much different than the bitter forty degree nip on the winter air outdoors greeted him... and he slowly drew toward the solid black door at the very end of the hall.

There was no need to knock.

He stood before the door, and turned his head up toward the dark reflective surface of a security globe placed in the corner of the hall along the ceiling, and waited patiently to make notice. After perhaps five minutes, he heard the automatic lock of the door shifting, and reached out to enter the dim-lit accommodations of the leader of the Three Rings of Hell.

A fire burned in the fireplace... the floors of dark granite were polished and neat, and the modern interior was as it always was. Not a single item or luxurious piece out of place. He hadn't expected to find her at the door, waiting for him, but rather her hand maiden... only Starling was nowhere to be seen, either.

He checked the silver pocket watch at the hip of his faded jeans before tucking his broad hands into the pockets of the dark, worn winter coat, and made his way across toward the gracious living space to stand before the roaring fire.

"Erik! It's been a while! We weren't expecting you--come on, come up!" The cheerful chirp of the breathtakingly beautiful, slender woman at the top of the stairwell drew his steely gray gaze languidly upward, and he offered the smallest semblance of a rare smile. He hadn't heard his given name in a very, very long time. There weren't many who were alive to even know it, anymore.

"I won't bother her, Starling... I only hoped to deliver a report, and expedite a request for a large scouting party."

"You Hunters, always with your work--She told me to tell you to come up. Are you going to send me to tell her you 'only meant to deliver a report?', because I certainly will not... and you're not bothering," Starling's coy grin was delivered with flirtatious delight as she leaned against the intricate railing, her pert breasts with their little pink nipples displayed proudly in the motion. It hadn't escaped Alpha that Starling was bare as the day she was born. Her mistress preferred her so. "Interrupting--but not bothering--or she wouldn't have let you inside."

Her musical chirrup accompanied a playfully devious bat of her long eyelashes, and she draped the waist-length sheet of hair the color of sunshine over her shoulder as she beaconed him to follow with an elegantly flexed finger. "Come on..."

With heightened anxiety and almost certain reluctance, Alpha stood there for a long moment. Well after the pretty, naked blonde vanished over the balcony ledge of the penthouse's second floor. He could hear the murmurs of her voice from beyond. He steeled his nerves, and started up the stairs, navigating the dim lit hall toward the very end knowing well where she would be at such a late hour. He hesitated at the door, before quietly entering her bedroom, and closing it behind him... and instantly there upon the polished granite Alpha knelt down upon one knee and bowed his head, respectfully.

A delectable moan of wanton bliss had escaped her lips as her handmaiden returned to her earlier place, nestled between her thighs just there at the edge of the bed. His eyes were dreadfully tempted up as Starling's muffled giggle answered, her rosy lips and pink tongue greedily lapping at the slick folds of her mistress' hairless cunt. Starling rested upon her knees on a thick, white furred fur carpet, her back arched and lovely, gorgeously round ass on full display for their visiting audience. The sweeping sheer black sheets of the canopy were drawn back, and upon sheets of sanguine satin the Leader of the Hunters was sprawled, breathless and demanding.